"Krhaa-"
Thud.
With a sigh, Woo Chae-rin placed her glass down. This was the third time. Instead of adding anything to the conversation, she marked the start of the drinking session by downing shots of soju in rapid succession.
The snack was dried squid. It was about a week past its expiration date, but in this apocalyptic world where society’s infrastructure had collapsed, it could almost be called fresh food.
Although Woo Chae-rin had brought the squid, Gordius was the only one eating it.
Gordius took a sip of soju from the small glass while observing Woo Chae-rin. Perhaps due to the effects of the alcohol she downed in quick succession, her face was already flushed. Without eating anything, she was bound to feel the full force of the alcohol soon.
Her unusually disheveled state made him feel oddly uneasy.
Gordius rubbed his temples for a moment, preparing to offer advice in hopes of stopping her reckless drinking.
“You should at least eat something—”
“I don’t want to. Don’t lecture me.”
“You’ll regret it tomorrow. This is more like foresight than a prediction. I know a very strong and healthy professor, Alexson... Even he couldn’t beat a hangover.”
“Future me will deal with the hangover, not me right now. And stop saying things that make too much sense even at a drinking party.”
Sluuurp.
However, his attempt to intervene only had the opposite effect, speeding up her pace. Woo Chae-rin poured another glass of soju, downing it as if trying to quench a burning sensation inside her. But alcohol wasn’t the kind of liquid that could solve such a problem—it was more like fire in liquid form.
“Ugh, it’s so hot...”
“Well, of course, it would be if you drink like that...”
Woo Chae-rin sluggishly took off her white coat.
Underneath, she was wearing a black sleeveless knit top. Her inebriated and slouched posture made it shift, revealing the strap of her bra draped over her shoulder.
Gordius, resisting the gravitational pull of his gaze downward, focused intently on the crease of her brow and raised a finger in stern warning.
“Don’t take off your clothes.”
“I’m still fully dressed underneath, okay? And I told you, stop giving me advice.”
“Technically, I didn’t give advice. You said to stop making sense, not to stop giving advice.”
“I said no making sense at a drinking party!”
What does she expect me to do?
He understood her feelings. Gordius wasn’t heartless, and he could empathize with what she was going through. Sacrifice is best kept to a minimum, and if possible, avoided altogether.
Drones were an attractive option—if humanity hadn’t been backed into a corner.
So, was she here to argue about pilots again?
“I... I hate being the leader. It’s too much.”
“...”
Instead, what came out of her mouth was something unexpected.
Woo Chae-rin had done well so far. She had secured materials from the authorities, led the people of Stellaria , and now the giant robot designed to fight the Great Beast was nearly complete. She could undoubtedly be called a born leader.
She possessed the kind of charisma that made people follow her voluntarily. It was the kind of light that radiates from someone with firm convictions, someone people instinctively want to follow.
And yet, she found it overwhelming.
“You’ve done a great job so far, haven’t you? Everyone in Stellaria relies on you, and you certainly have the ability.”
“Just because I’m talented doesn’t mean I have to like it. And... to be honest, I was never someone who led others or had experience doing so. I was just a low-ranking researcher, doing support work for other people’s projects.”
“...You?”
Plainly speaking, Woo Chae-rin was a genius.
Creating a giant robot in a world where society had collapsed wasn’t something just anyone could do. She was an incredibly skilled individual, and Gordius naturally assumed she had followed an elite path.
Apparently, he was wrong.
“It turns out, connections are everything. I didn’t go to the same university as they did, so they pushed me out, stole my ideas, and kept me at the bottom. There was no place for me in their little back-scratching network.”
“So, they let a gem like you go to waste.”
“The decisive factor... well, there was a drinking party where I didn’t drink with a professor, and that old man started messing with me from then on. So, yeah, I got no recognition, no rewards for my work.”
“Ridiculous. It’s a loss for everyone. To waste such a valuable talent...”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s exactly what I want to hear. Tell me all the sweet lies and none of the facts.”
Woo Chae-rin chuckled, her demeanor drastically different from her usual intelligent and composed self, so much so that Gordius’s gaze sought refuge in the wall calendar. He wasn’t even sure why he averted his eyes.
Gurgle, gurgle.
She poured more soju into her glass, her hand unsteady from intoxication. The liquid filled the glass and spilled over the edge.
“Hey... want to hear something funny?”
“If it’s funny enough, I’ll reward you with this dried squid.”
“I miss those days. The ones where I was rotting away in the lab.”
“...”
Sluuurp. Woo Chae-rin downed her glass and set it down with a clink.
Then, she slumped onto the table, using her arm as a pillow, and muttered half-coherently as she shared her innermost thoughts.
“Those days were shit... but at least I could order fried chicken late at night, buy chicken breast to stay fit, and take bubble baths whenever I wanted... God, looking back, that was such a luxury.”
“Well...”
“Now, sure, I get respect as a leader, and my abilities are recognized. But honestly, none of it matters. I wouldn’t mind rotting away in that lab, getting no recognition at all... If I could just go back to those peaceful days.”
“...Is that so?”
Woo Chae-rin nodded silently.
She longed for the past, for the days when, though life was difficult, survival wasn’t a constant concern. She yearned for the time when things were simpler.
That’s why she stepped up.
That’s why she negotiated with politicians, even while trembling inside, to secure support. That’s why she spent sleepless nights working tirelessly on her research, why she founded Stellaria . It was all driven by her yearning for the past.
Her desire to return to that time pushed her to act.
Gordius gently placed a piece of squid in Woo Chae-rin’s mouth and spoke.
“If you dream big enough, your wish might come true. Once we defeat the Great Beast, you could start your own lab in your name. You’ll get peace and fame.”
“Ugh, no thanks. I’m sick of being on top. I just want to collect my veteran’s pension and live quietly. That’s all I want right now.”
“What a waste. If you’re going to squander your talent like that, just give it to me. I’ll buy it from you.”
“Goldy... name your price. If I like the number, I’ll sell it to you.”
Her eyes curved into a mischievous smile. Gordius was about to offer her a chocolate bar as a joke, but seeing that smile, he upped the ante a little.
“How about the brilliant wisdom of a genius mage, apprentice to the Golden Tower’s Master, and future candidate for the next Golden Tower Master?”
“I tried that already. Turns out, without magic, you’re a total dud. Plus, you suck at earth science.”
“The doctor I know with the surname ‘Woo’ is also useless without science.”
“If we’re both useless, I guess we’re even. Bring me a contract next time.”
Gordius adjusted his posture, knowing not to take a drunk person’s jokes seriously. Surely, her words carried no significant meaning—it was just alcohol-fueled banter.
After that, their conversation shifted to lighter topics.
She talked about her hobby of collecting Sylvanian figures, asking if Gordius thought they were as cute as she did (he thought it was a waste of money).
She also complained about the heat, telling Gordius that since she couldn’t strip with him around, he should cover his eyes (he solved it by bringing her a glass of cold water).
And then:
“About the name for the robot... I’m thinking of calling it Meteor .”
“A meteor?”
“Yeah. We’re Stellaria , right? We’ll drop that star right on the Great Beast’s head. Pretty profound, don’t you think?”
“It’s not that profound, but it’s an appealing name. I’d invest three gold coins just for the name.”
“Hah, maybe I should open a naming shop.”
Meteor.
The name of the first unit was set as “the star that fell from the sky.”
Gordius occasionally recalled moments from his past, particularly the time when a fake knight stood bravely against the monsters that attacked his village. A clunky iron armor hastily put together, and a little Gordius watching in awe.
He remembered the knight’s back, and ever since being saved by that brave figure, Gordius had dreamed of building a giant golem. He wanted to recreate that feeling of safety with his own hands.
A five-meter or ten-meter golem didn’t give off the same aura. But a much larger one... that would provide the sense of security anyone could rely on.
“Dr. Woo Chae-rin, your dream will come true. I’m certain of it.”
Perhaps, in the end, size isn’t what matters—
===============================================================
“The right mechanical arm is finished. Chae-rin.”
“Good work. I’ve just stabilized the mana engine too. Goldy, can you check it over?”
“Let’s switch. I can’t get the right feel for the arm’s weight. A talented scientist like you should take a look.”
“Why are you buttering me up so much these days... I’m not good at that kind of flattery, Goldy. Don’t expect it from me.”
As they chatted and worked on the project together, the workers murmured among themselves, noticing how the atmosphere between the two had changed overnight.
“Don’t you think those two have gotten really close lately?”
“I heard Dr. Woo Chae-rin went to his room last night.”
“Oh wow, they did it, didn’t they? See, everyone needs a partner to mellow out. Ow, what the—why’s there a rock in my shoe all of a sudden...?”
Gordius, using magic, had filled the gossiping workers’ shoes with small pebbles. Fortunately, Woo Chae-rin hadn’t heard them.
Bzzzzt!
Unit 1, Meteor , was about 80% complete.
This percentage was for ensuring perfection, but even at its current state, it was fully operational and combat-ready. According to the research team’s analysis, Meteor had an 85% chance of defeating the Great Beast if deployed now.
But was that enough? That lingering doubt urged them to be cautious.
There was a report that when a tank’s close-range fire had damaged the surface of the Great Beast, something pitch-black had been seen beneath the cracks.
Thus, they were preparing a secret weapon.
Woo Chae-rin had retrieved a rocket propulsion system. Normally, it would have launched a massive rocket into space, but now its enormous power would be used to smash through the Great Beast’s skull.
They called it the Meteor Strike.
It would be ready in a week.
Meanwhile, Pilot Mr. Kim was progressing smoothly in his training. With repeated drills and study, he had extended the maximum operational time of the mana engine to two hours.
“Aww, did my daughter come to visit Daddy?”
“Robot! The robot’s moving!”
“If Daddy’s gonna do that, he’s gotta show the robot’s heart shape...”
“Stop! The robot’s arms can’t handle being raised in that position during the test runs, so don’t do that!”
They settled for a heart gesture with his fingers.
In real combat, there would be numerous variables, and physical and mental stress would make things more difficult. But even considering that, the data was still promising. If the fight with the Great Beast lasted more than an hour, they would lose anyway.
Everything was progressing smoothly.
But disasters never wait for humans.
Crackle. Buzz.
-“Citizens of greatness, today marks the end of the longest and most brutal war in human history. Our great union has finally achieved victory after a relentless struggle to defend freedom and peace.”
-“The Third World War was not just a clash between nations; it was a battle of ideologies, a necessary challenge to protect our values and beliefs—”
The radio suddenly broadcasted the news of the war’s end. It was the first contact from the outside world in a long time.
The people of Stellaria cheered, believing that if nuclear war in the Western world was over and peace was coming, they might receive help in their battle against the Great Beast.
Everyone smiled, optimistic about the future.
Except for two people. Only Woo Chae-rin and Gordius stood frozen, their expressions grim. This was not good news at all.
The reason the Great Beast had been dormant was likely that it was focusing on destroying the world’s largest powers. The creature was believed to have induced World War III through psychic waves.
And now that the war had ended...
“It’s decided that there’s no power left capable of hurting it. That’s not a victory broadcast—it’s a surrender to the Great Beast!”
“If it no longer needs to project those waves to the outside world, that means the Great Beast is...!”
Kiik. Clang. Clack.
A strange noise, almost like mocking laughter, echoed from the radio. And simultaneously—
Beeeep!
“Movement detected from the Great Beast! It’s moving—it’s moving now!”
“It’s been still this whole time! Why now?!”
The emergency sirens blared, and the entire facility was bathed in red warning lights. The laughter that once filled the underground bunker melted away, replaced by a crushing sense of dread.
Woo Chae-rin urgently called for a meeting.
“What’s the situation?”
“The Great Beast is engaging in random acts of destruction. Its path is erratic; it’s ignoring some buildings while destroying others.”
“No, it’s killing people. Every target it’s hitting matches the locations of survivor groups we’ve identified!”
“But that’s inconsistent too. If it’s trying to kill people, why move in such a random pattern—?”
Bang.
Gordius slammed his hand on the table, silencing the confusion. He looked straight at Woo Chae-rin.
“The important thing is that the Great Beast is on the move again. What will you do?”
“...”
“There’s a clear merit in launching a counterattack now, Chae-rin. For the future recovery of Korea, we should consider launching Meteor before the casualties spread—”
“Stop. That’s something you should have said at the drinking party. What you really want to say is that you’re against it, right?”
Avoidance.
Letting the Great Beast slaughter survivors while they turned a blind eye, focusing instead on finishing the final touches on Unit 1 Meteor . That was the cold, rational choice.
The two had influenced each other. They had been affected by one another. And now, Woo Chae-rin bit her lip, trying to make the “more practical” decision for the greater good.
“We’ll delay the launch—”
“It’s coming! The Great Beast is headed this way—!!”
“...Ha. The timing is impeccable. No need to deliberate further. Prepare for launch. Everyone to your stations. Goldy, come with me to the control room. Security team, prepare for evacuation.”
“Yes, ma’am!”
Woo Chae-rin let out a weary sigh. Gordius scratched his head as they headed to the control room.
Oddly, there was a sense of relief. Since they couldn’t avoid the fight, all that was left was to confront it with everything they had. Stellaria was preparing for battle.
People ran about, working with a mix of urgency and determination.
Click, click, hiss!
The machinery that had stabilized Unit 1 Meteor detached, and the ceiling slowly opened, revealing the sky. Sunlight streamed in, illuminating the robot’s face.
This was the cockpit.
Woo Chae-rin stopped Pilot Kim as he made his way to the cockpit.
“Its specs are not lacking in any way. Based on the destruction records, we’ve calculated the Great Beast’s physical attributes and adjusted Meteor’s output to surpass them. Got it?”
“You’re telling me all I have to do is fight well. I’ll handle it, Dr. Woo. So don’t worry too much. And... please take care of my daughter.”
“Don’t say that. Just fight cautiously. You must avoid any damage to the cockpit. Come back alive, understood?”
“Of course. Where else would I go, leaving my daughter behind...?”
The boarding process was complete. The control room’s screens showed Unit 1 Meteor ’s internal systems, the cockpit’s interior, and external camera footage.
Gordius clenched his fist. The masterpiece he and Woo Chae-rin had created was now on stage, ready to prove itself. The hopes of everyone were pinned on that robot.
It was time.
Would they save the world or fall to the Great Beast?
At this critical juncture, the coin was tossed.
===============================================================
Thud. Thud.
The living catastrophe had arrived. Its body was so massive that no other living being could match it, and it possessed the strength to obliterate an entire civilization.
Its white surface swirled with purple patterns. From its grotesque form, a sense of joy radiated. Death and tragedy were absurdly delightful.
Crackle, buzz!
With a mere flick of its hand, buildings crumbled. Screams filled the air. Compared to the noise of the collapsing buildings, the tiny, frail cries of humans were no louder than the flapping of insect wings.
But the Great Beast could hear them perfectly. After all, hearing those cries was its very reason for existence, a trait inherited from its creators.
Inside. Yes, inside.
There, huddled together, the people screamed.
“Kyaaaaaah!!”
“Get away, please get away! Go away!”
The Great Beast’s tendrils, attached to its head, writhed as they sensed the mana ahead. Like a thermal camera, it could see the forms of the “awakened” who wielded magic.
The Beast carefully extended a paw. Glass shattered, steel beams bent. The awakened ones spat fire in resistance, but it was a futile struggle.
Thud. Thud.
They would be slowly, leisurely, crushed to death.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Thud!
Then, the Great Beast felt a tremor. At first, it thought it was the sound of a collapsing building, but something was different. This was the sound of something approaching from behind.
Something—another massive entity, one comparable to itself—was causing the ground to tremble with its footsteps.
And by the time it realized what it was, it was already too late.
Thud!
It was enormous, loud, and clunky.
A massive chunk of mana-infused metal.
Boom!
Unit 1 Meteor ’s giant fist slammed into the Great Beast’s face.